


Kiss the Feet of a Charlatan

by stardustgirl



Series: The Twisting Morn [6]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Child Abuse, Dark Ezra Bridger, Dark Magic, Dehumanization, Emotional Manipulation, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Force Bond (Star Wars), Heavy Angst, Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Manipulation, Suicide, Teenage Ezra Bridger, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:10:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: The year is 1207.The Empire won the war four years ago.The fae were killed off two years afterward.There has been peace since.But Ezra was caught robbing House Pryce almost three years ago.(Or, have another medieval magic AU from yours truly.)





	1. The Last Lead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dessa/gifts).

> Huge shoutout to Dessa for repeatedly telling me how much she loves SMF and that I need to finish it (which I most likely will not do here is my apology to her) and for helping me plan everything out and beta-ing. Along with dealing with my constant questions lol.
> 
> TW: Torture, Child Abuse, Blood, Aftermath of a Suicide

“Find her.”

Ezra nods, wheeling Tash around and urging the pony forward. The gelding snorts, tossing his head as he moves up into a canter. Ezra leans forward over the pony’s neck, breathing in tandem with the creature as he reaches out for his victim’s Trace. Faint, fainter than he would have expected, but there.

He sucks in a breath as Tash swerves around a tree.

Maybe someone got there first.

He clenches his jaw and taps the pony’s sides with his heels.

Tash is nearly at a full-out gallop—or as close as he can get with the rouncey—when he hears a loud crack and pulls the horse to a stop, glancing over his shoulder. Tash tosses his head again, whinnying sharply. Ezra dismounts and starts in the direction the gelding’s ears are pricked, narrowing his eyes, but can’t see anything.

Something whizzes past his ear.

He turns, mounting from the ground in a swift motion. Tash rears—_ the brat that he is, of course he does— _and he nearly finds himself unseated, clinging to the pony’s barrel and mane in a last ditch attempt to stay on. It works, and he turns Tash around, kicking the pony forward and grasping the bone whistle slung around his neck. He blows three short blasts on it, hard, then lets it fall and focuses on getting Tash and himself out.

Another arrow blows past and _ thunks _ into a tree trunk only inches away and he yanks on the reins, pulling Tash out of the way of another he senses only half a second ahead of time.

_ Iron. _

Kriff kriff _ kriff _ he needs to get the both of them out of here, _ now. _

He moves Tash back off the path into the woods, hoping the trees will block the archers’ aim and buy him and his pony time to get away.

The thundering of hooves and baying of hounds interrupts his thoughts and he barely moves his pony out of the way in time for a group of troopers to charge their horses through the trees in the direction the arrows are arriving from. The wolfhounds follow, and behind them Kallus and his courser. The man slows his mare, ignoring her irritated snorts as he turns to Ezra.

“Wait on the road! I’ll call if you’re needed.”

He nods, and the man loosens his reins, letting Scarlett move into a run.

Ezra returns to the road to wait.

* * *

Kallus dismounts his mare, approaching the body and crouching. The woman lies in a pool of her own blood. It drips from her chin, still fresh; she can’t have taken the poison more than a few minutes ago. And it was clearly fast-acting, too. The red has already soaked through the collar of her dress and is beginning to matt into her hair; it’s only a matter of time until it does the same to the earth.

Disgusted at their failure to retrieve the final lead before she was able to destroy herself—and with her, the information—Kallus rises. He walks back to Scarlett, mounting the mare and looking down at the body as he speaks. “Fan out and find the archer. I want them brought in for questioning. You, however, you’re with me. I need you for the boy.” The trooper he singled out nods, and the pair waits while the rest canter off again. Finally they depart and Kallus leads the way back to the road. Scarlett neighs, pulling at the bit to try and trot to Ezra’s pony. He gives the reins a quick jerk, enough to settle the mare though it doesn’t take her attention off Tash, and then turns to Ezra.

“You spooked them.”

The boy starts immediately. “I didn’t—“

“You _ spooked _ them,” he repeats, voice hard. “The woman in there would not have had time to take the poison otherwise.”

“Look, I didn’t think she’d _ poison herself—_“

“She was a malcontented faerie, boy. Nothing they do makes sense. They care nothing about their lives, or the lives of those around them. Only the continued existence of their false beliefs. You need to be prepared for that.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

Kallus ignores his reaction, instead narrowing his eyes slightly as he studies the faerie. “Were you on foot or astride when they started firing?”

His eyes widen. “Please, I was on foot, don’t punish Tash—“

“I wouldn’t punish your horse, boy. Not for something _ you _ did.” He pretends to think for a moment, though he already has his plan in mind. “You do, however, need to learn to tread carefully. Trooper, get the iron bars and some rope. A knife, too, if you would.”

Fear flares briefly in Ezra’s eyes and he moves to shorten the reins and back Tash up. Kallus shoots him a look.

“Think about that very carefully first,” he says.

Ezra loosens the reins again.

The trooper returns, holding the items Kallus requested. The latter dismounts, taking them and approaching Ezra. The faerie’s gaze flicks down to his foot as Kallus stops next to Tash. “Take your boots and socks off,” he orders. Ezra obeys, though moves slowly, breathing hesitantly through his nose. He tosses the first boot to the ground, narrowly missing Kallus’s shin. He doesn’t comment as the faerie balls up his socks, shoves them in his second boot, and tosses it at Kallus. He lets it fall next to the first.

“Give me your foot.” Ezra nearly kicks him in the head and he grabs the boy’s ankle. He wraps the rope around one of the iron bars and presses it to the sole of the boy’s foot, tying it off and cutting the rope before moving to the other side. Ezra watches, already squirming from the burn of the iron as Kallus ties the other on. “Don’t touch them,” he orders, crossing back to Tash’s off side and picking up the boots. He hands them to Ezra. “Put these back on. You can take the iron off when we stop for the night, before you dismount. It should teach you to walk quieter next time.” Ezra nods, bringing his foot up enough to put his boot on before yelping and nearly dropping it as the iron shifts.

Kallus returns to Scarlett, mounting her before turning halfway to glance back at the woods. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to their only lead.

And it won’t be the last, he knows.


	2. Politics & Posturing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture of a Child (more aftermath of and implied/referenced than anything but), Hypothetical Torture of a Child, Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation (lowkey and no sign of acting on them), Referenced Death of a Parent, Dehumanization of a Child

“This isn’t the way home.”

Kallus casts him a glance, but thankfully doesn’t punish him. “No. It isn’t. You’re right.”

“Where are we going, then?”

“The Lothal township,” Kallus replies. Scarlett tosses her head, snorting, and Tash answers in turn. Ezra frowns slightly at the reaction of his horse but doesn’t respond otherwise, only nodding.

“Why Lothal?”

“It’s the seat of the governorship, as you well know. And the region we’ve been traveling in for the past few hours is a part of that governorship. Lady Pryce needs to hear the news of the faerie. She and her son need to be warned, just in case.”

Ezra wrinkles his nose at Kallus’s explanation, and not just at the condescending tone—as if Ezra’s a mere _ child— _that he uses. The Pryces are the reason he’s here, stuck with a cause he hardly believes in. Kallus is the reason he’s not rotting in prison or, worse, still stuck on the streets. Death would be preferable to both of those options, but everyone here has already made it clear that won’t be coming to him anytime soon.

_ Pryce’s hand tightens around his wrist, twisting it behind his back until he’s forced onto his knees, whimpering with the pain. “He killed my dad,” the older teen announces, gaze locked on the official Ezra doesn’t recognize. “And I want him dead.” _

_ He’s lying. _

Ezra shifts, the saddle creaking slightly, and winces at the pain the movement brings the soles of his feet. He mutters a curse under his breath, though apparently it’s still loud enough for Kallus to hear because the spymaster shoots a glance at him.

“Language. You’re a representative of the Empire, remember.”

“And I’m my own kriffing person, so I can say what I want,” he snaps back.

Kallus moves so fast he nearly doesn’t catch it. The man grabs Tash’s reins, jerking back with a swift movement that causes the gelding to kick out with a hind leg, unseating Ezra momentarily as the horse squeals. The iron shifts on both feet and Ezra cries out, starting to fall forward before grabbing his mount’s mane and keeping himself from falling by it. By now, the man has pulled his own mare to a stop, raising a hand to halt the soldiers behind them.

“You would do well to remember your place, _ faerie,_” he threatens. Ezra nods, biting back another yelp as he sits up and pushes himself back into his original position. “I can take all this away in a moment, and you’ll be back rotting in a cell in Coruscant, or handed over to the Pryces to do with as they wish.”

“They killed him themselves,” he mutters quietly. “There’s nothing they could do to me to remedy that.”

“They could silence you.”

He doesn’t respond.

Finally Kallus wheels Scarlett around again, facing forward and dropping his hand. “Forward,” he calls, nudging the mare up into a trot. Ezra pushes Tash to follow, ignoring the twisting unease in his stomach.

* * *

“Spymaster, _ faerie,_” Lady Pryce says, sniffing in disdain as she eyes Ezra. He looks her in the eye steadily, daring her to do anything. Though usual protocol calls for him to be behind Kallus with his gaze down, this is the one instance the spymaster always allows him to break that rule. They both know it unsettles the Pryces, and though Ezra would rather keep out of their mind as much as possible, Kallus would rather knock his political opponents off balance as much as possible.

And the man’s never been one to neglect any options he has available.

“Lady Pryce,” Kallus replies in turn, dipping his head in feigned politeness. “I trust you received our message?”

Her lip curls. “I received nothing of the sort.”

All three of them know that no message was sent. But still, the posturing must be done. Already, Ezra feels like falling asleep.

But as his leg starts to fall asleep, he shifts, and pressure is forced upon the iron burns—though the iron was taken off upon dismounting Tash, they still hurt like the Depths. He bites back a quiet whimper, closing his eyes and trying to shift his weight back to where it was a moment ago.

Kallus notices but doesn’t comment. However, Lady Pryce does.

“Can you not even keep your dog under control? Look at him, walking everywhere while we converse. Stand still, boy. Pay _ some _ degree of attention to your elders, and maybe you’d become less of a scourge on this Empire,” she says, brow raised and nose wrinkled.

“Kriff you,” he mutters under his breath, the statement just loud enough for Kallus to hear. He snorts softly, but at Lady Pryce’s horrified face—_ oh _ kriff _ she heard me oh _kriff—he whirls and grabs Ezra by the shoulder. “Don’t,” he mutters. His eyes warn that they’ll talk about this later, when they aren’t in the middle of politics, and Ezra’s heart sinks.

“Just ‘don’t?’ That’s _ hardly _ a reprimand.”

“I don’t believe in punishing Imperial officials above someone else’s station while the latter is present,” he says smoothly, barely sparing her a glance as he lets go of Ezra. “Unless you’d like to register a complaint and believe yourself capable of punishing an official above you on your own.”

She glowers at Kallus for a long moment before finally huffing, sniffing once more before clearing her throat. “Why don't you simply cut to the chase and tell me why you’ve decided to visit?”

“We received a report of a faerie just outside the Outer Province. We went to check it out, however she had poisoned herself and died by the time we reached her. But she was headed in the direction of _ your _ land.”

Lady Pryce stiffens. She finally sits, gesturing for Kallus and Ezra to do the same on a small couch opposite. “False. She was doing nothing of the sort. Who told you that? The boy?”

“No. I witnessed it myself,” Kallus answers, an edge in his voice.

“There are no fae on my land. You must have been mistaken.”

“Can I talk?” Kallus nods. “She was fae, or at least half-fae. I could sense her.”

“You can’t sense soulless demons,” Lady Pryce says dismissively.

“You know perfectly well he can,” the man snaps. “Now. I’m not accusing you of harboring fae, but if you keep denying my _ observations _ so vehemently, I may very well have to. I am merely here to warn you to keep an eye out for any transient groups or individuals, and to report them immediately—directly to _ me. _ No one else. Clear?”

Lady Pryce nods.

“Good. Ezra, I think we’re done here.”

Ezra stands. He hisses in pain as pressure hits the burns and bites his lip, nodding and dropping his gaze as he follows Kallus out. He doesn’t have the energy to glare at Pryce anymore, not when he feels like he’s going to be crippled and he’s dealing with enough other things already.

It’s too long of a wait until he and Kallus reach the stables, and even worse when he has to wait for the stableboy to bring Tash back out. After Kallus offers him a leg up and he finds a position in the saddle that doesn’t make his feet feel the need to fall off, the man mounts up on his own horse and shoots a glance over.

“You can forgo the irons on the way back. I think you’ve learned your lesson by now.” Ezra nods, clucking to Tash as Kallus leads the way off of the estate. He waits until the soldiers fall in line behind before moving up next to Kallus, holding Tash back to keep him in step with Scarlett.

“You know what she said, about the demon thing? And how people think we’re demons?”

“They think _ you _are, Ezra, not me,” Kallus corrects. “But continue.”

He ignores the jab. “Well, was she right? Are _ they _ right? Am I?”

Kallus hums in thought, though they both already know how he feels on the matter. This time is far from the first one they’ve discussed it. “I think you’re aware of the answer to your question already, boy.” Without another word, he kicks Scarlett ahead, and leaves Ezra behind.


	3. A Run-in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Injury

Ezra shifts his weight, trying not to wince at the burns. “Anything else you need, sir?”

“No. You’re free for the day. Don’t make too much trouble,” Kallus says without looking up from the stack of recent reports. Nodding, Ezra leaves.

As soon as he rounds the corner outside Kallus’s study, Ezra bolts for the stables, reaching them in record time. He grooms and saddles Tash himself before using the stall wall to mount and heading out.

Tash is in a canter halfway down the path to town. He knows the townspeople already don’t like him, so why try and fix that? He keeps his pony cantering even into the square.

And nearly bowls someone over.

The man takes a step back, the horse he’s leading by hand rearing and striking out at Tash. Tash whinnies and backs up rapidly, bumping into something behind him and neighing again in fear.

_ Kriff today. _

Ezra clings to the gelding, willing himself not to fall off as the horse bolts. Tash misses hitting the same horse from earlier, though he  _ does _ barely miss a kick from it. Ezra winces at the near miss.

He closes his eyes as Tash continues to run rampant through the streets, knowing there’s no way he’s getting the horse back under control anytime soon. Once Tash is going, the bay gelding can’t be calmed until he’s run through everything there is  _ to _ run through.

Finally, the horse stops abruptly, head and neck dropping and launching Ezra forward and onto the ground. He opens his eyes, wincing as he starts to stand on still-aching feet.

The man he almost ran over only minutes ago stands before him, offering him a hand up while his other arm is raised in a calming gesture toward Tash. Ezra nods, accepting the hand and brushing himself off.

“Doesn’t listen to you very well, does he?”

The man’s tone isn’t unfriendly, but it’s not exactly amiable, either, more like an odd mixture of neutrality and caution. Ezra doesn’t blame him. If someone with an Imperial uniform nearly ran  _ him _ over, he’d feel the same way.

As if reading his mind, the man’s friendliness seems to dissipate slightly. “I should go.”

“Okay,” Ezra replies, uncertain why the man is even there in the first place. “I appreciate you, um, stopping him.”

“Yeah,” is all he says. The man scratches the back of his head, right under the base of the part of his hair pulled into a tail, before turning and whistling long and low.

Within seconds, the horse he was leading in the town comes trotting through the brush, snorting 

and dropping to a sudden halt when it sees Ezra and Tash. It’s nostrils flare and it snorts again, louder.

The man places a hand on its neck, rubbing it comfortingly. “Shhh, girl, shhh. We were just leaving.” The gray mare shorts a third time, eyeing Ezra with what he could swear is unnatural intelligence before turning and leading the way back through the forest. Without another word, the man follows her.

They’re both gone in seconds.

* * *

The next day, he’s nearly to Kallus’s office when a soldier catches his tardiness. “Get in there, boy. You’re  _ late. _ ” He ducks a light cuff from him, slipping by and rushing into the spymaster’s office. He stumbles to a halt directly in front of Kallus’s desk, keeping his head bowed and hands clasped in front of him.

“I shouldn’t have been late, sir,” he starts, swallowing. “And I should’ve—“

“I have three things to discuss with you, boy,” Kallus says, raising a hand to stop him. “Firstly: I received a report yesterday that you ran Tash into town at a near gallop.”

“I didn’t run him; we were only cantering—“

Kallus raises his hand higher, eyebrows raised as if daring Ezra to say another word. He swallows and falls silent. “Second: there are reports of a newcomer in town. We’ll be checking them out tomorrow, introducing them to the town. Making sure they feel welcomed. And that they aren’t fae.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Finally, after we evaluate the newcomer and whether they’re a threat, I have another job for you. You’re being sent to House Thrawn to keep an eye on the ruling lord there.”

Thrawn.

He remembers Thrawn, remembers the countless stitches and skinned knees and broken bones and shed tears, remembers the hiding places and stolen food. But Eli’s there, too, or  _ was, _ in any case.

Then again, Eli also kept him from leaving, too.

“Why?”

“He’s still seeking an alliance with the Emperor for his native land, and trying to become fully integrated. The Emperor gave him a ward who disappeared after only a few months, and he’s been on probation since.”

So. They  _ haven’t _ been able to connect him back to Thrawn and Eli yet, otherwise he’d be imprisoned. Maybe they even think Thrawn killed him.

“So you want me to babysit a foreigner?”

“No, I simply want you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he isn’t a traitor. I’ll be introducing you as a diplomat, determined to learn from how he runs his part of his kingdom. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to introduce you as a ward.”

Ezra gives a hurried shake of his head. “I think I’m okay.”

The spymaster holds his gaze for a moment before nodding, looking back down at several papers on his desk. “I’ll be sending you there in a week’s time. By then, we should have the issue of the newcomer resolved. Prepare yourself emotionally. I don’t want another breakdown on my hands.”

He grimaces at the reference to the last time Kallus sent him away and nods. “You won’t have one, sir.”

“Good. You may go. Meet in the stableyard at dawn; we’ll head out from there to track the new arrival. I except no galloping unless ordered, Bridger. Am I understood?”

“Yes.”

“Dismissed.”

Ezra leaves without another word, heart pounding as he slips away to the stables. He finds Tash’s stall without a word to the horsemaster or any of the stableboys and crawls inside, curling up in the corner and drawing his knees to his chest. He buries his face in them, unable to even look at Tash as the gelding quietly chews his hay as if nothing in the world is wrong.

But everything is, and Ezra knows it.


	4. The Man at the Fountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Torture of a Child, Implied Threat of Child Abuse

Kallus shoots a glance at the boy as he exits the stables, bareback astride Tash. He rubs an eye, yawning, and Kallus gets a glimpse of the child Ezra was once.

That child vanishes when Ezra blinks.

“Where’s your saddle?”

“I’m not using one, sir,” he says mildly, shifting forward slightly on the rouncey. Tash snorts.

“Why? Part of your agreement was to represent yourself with dignity, if I’m remembering right.”

“Because I can get on and off faster without one.”

He holds Kallus’s gaze for a long moment before the man finally nods, sighing inwardly. “Fine. If I have to wait for you, even for a moment, I’ll leave you behind.”

Ezra nods and they head out.

It’s not often just the two of them are out on a lead, and it hasn’t happened for several months now. Kallus takes the time to watch the boy, to see how much more relaxed he is without soldiers surrounding at Kallus’s beck and call. The boy’s still on edge, of course, though significantly less so than he usually is. He allows his legs to hang loosely off Tash’s sides, clearly trusting the pony not to try anything.

Ironic, the boy giving trust to another creature, considering the boy has barely any trust himself.

_ Bribing a dog with food only works for so long, _ he reminds himself. _ He’ll never be fully loyal. Not really. _

“Sir?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking at Ezra. The latter’s gaze is still fixed on the path ahead. “What?”

“How long will I be with Lord Thrawn?”

“I’m not sure. Likely several months, if not a year or more.”

“Oh.” Ezra falls quiet again.

“Why? Are you concerned?”

“I...no, no, never mind,” he says, his hesitation barely noticeable. Kallus’s gaze narrows.

“Ezra. Tell me why.”

The faerie fights against his order for a moment, but it’s a losing battle. Ezra sighs, running a hand through his hair before dropping it and swallowing. “I just wanted to know how long I’d be there.”

“Were you thinking of running?”

Ezra is only able to keep his silence for mere seconds. He drops his eyes to Tash’s neck, playing absently with the horse’s mane. “Yes.”

“Here are your orders, then: when you’re with Thrawn, you _ will not _ run. You will remain with him at all times and ensure nothing happens to him. Am I clear?”

Ezra nods sullenly, twisting Tash’s mane around his fingers. The boy is filled to the brim with anxiety, apprehension spilling over and into his posture as he continues to fidget, eventually twisting Tash’s mane tighter and tighter.

“You’re going to pull it out,” Kallus warns. Ezra only shrugs.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I don’t think you want to hurt a horse for what’s wrong with _ you. _”

He nods in agreement, though the movement is weary. Kallus doesn’t press it.

They reach town soon enough, and Kallus stops his gelding only long enough to ask someone where Jarrus is. He follows the directions, slowing as they reach the fountain at the other end of the square.

Jarrus isn’t a faerie.

It’s obvious; he wouldn’t be here otherwise. Fae hide themselves away. They hate confrontations. After all, how often has he found Ezra curled up in a forgotten corner somewhere, sulking because of his most recent punishment?

Jarrus is watering his mare, a large, big-boned but still refined creature, when they approach. Kallus clears his throat.

“Kanan Jarrus?”

The man turns, nodding with a narrowed gaze before turning back to the horse. “I’m busy.”

Not a faerie. Ezra isn’t reacting at all, only watching Jarrus with mild but bored curiosity. Best to wrap this up quickly then, so he can send the boy on his way.

“And I’m an officer of His Excellency’s Empire. I only wanted to inform you that I am in charge of the local garrison, and that if you need anything you may ask me.”

“Great. Who’s the kid?”

He’s slightly miffed at Kanan’s familiarity. “He works for me.”

“What, a slave or something? I thought the Empire was above that.” The way he says it makes Kallus uncomfortable, and it almost seems as if Jarrus is distancing himself from the Empire.

“I’m _ not _ a slave,” Ezra mutters.

“He’s a fae hunter,” Kallus says proudly, ignoring Ezra’s shudder at his choice of words. “Of course, he only lures them in. That’s all he needs to do, after all.”

Jarrus nods, a slow, hesitant motion. “...of course,” he echoes.

“He and I need to leave, to attend to _ other _ matters. However, I trust you will reach out should any problems arise?”

Jarrus nods again. “Yeah, sure.”

Kallus offers a thin smile. “Good.” He shoots a glance at Ezra, gesturing back in the vague direction of the garrison.

Ezra wheels Tash around, urging the gelding up into a trot. Kallus can feel Jarrus’s gaze on him, though he doesn’t so much as turn after following Ezra.

* * *

Ezra pulls at the stiff collar of the shirt, grimacing. “Do I _ have _ to wear this?”

“Yes,” Kallus answers, shooting him a glance. “You do.”

Ezra sighs, loudly, and slouches in his seat. The carriage continues on without so much as pausing—Tash_ would pause if I tried that—_and he sighs again. Kallus raises an eyebrow.

“You realize that it’s a _ privilege _ to be transported like this, boy. Not everyone has the option to take a carriage, you know.”

“Yeah and not everyone gets talked about like they’re the cargo and not the passenger,” he snaps back.

Kallus leans forward, raising a hand as if to slap him. Ezra shrinks back, dropping his gaze and mumbling, “I shouldn’t have done that.” Kallus sits back and shifts, folding his arms.

“You shouldn’t have, you’re right,” he says in a calm, patronizing tone.

Ezra glares furiously at the carriage floor.

“Remind me of the rules I set out for you.”

He sighs inwardly, listing them off while keeping his gaze down. “‘Don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t leave him, address him as only ‘Lord Thrawn, my lord, milord, and sir,’ don’t do anything he says not to, don’t go off property unless he permits it, don’t leave, don’t embarrass you, don’t steal stuff’...am I missing anything?”

Kallus shakes his head. “No. Good boy.” The carriage rolls to a stop and Kallus rises, pushing open the door and stepping out. Ezra follows. He almost has to jump to reach and Kallus shoots him a glance. The teen ducks his head.

A pair of guards approaches, eyeing them warily. Ezra keeps his gaze down.

“We’re here for your lord,” the spymaster says before they can ask. “This is the diplomat.”

“Alright. Come with us, he’s been expecting you two.”

They follow on foot, Ezra trying not to limp though the burns still haven’t entirely healed from the punishment only a couple of weeks ago. Kallus doesn’t spare him so much as a sympathetic glance.

By the time they reach the stairs leading to the entrance, Ezra is half-sure that Kallus made the carriage stop so far back just to torture him. Though at least his feet aren’t bleeding.

Yet.

They enter the main building and then the guards split, one leading them into a parlor while the other leaves to fetch Thrawn. Ezra silently wonders if he’ll be spending most of his time as a bodyguard interacting with Thrawn’s guests.

As they wait, he glances up at the spymaster. “When do I get to see Tash again?” he blurts out.

Kallus raises an eyebrow. “When do you think you should?”

The faerie’s cheeks flush slightly. _ Kriff, now look what you’ve done. You’ll get punished regardless of your answer now. _ “I...soon, yeah. I think– I think I should see him soon, sir.”

Kallus levels a stare at him, opening his mouth to speak when the door opens. A servant clears her throat, holding it as a figure Ezra hasn’t seen in years enters.

“Lord Thrawn, sirs.”


	5. A Fragile House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Threat of Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Improper Handling of Panic Attacks by Others

The serving-girl steps out, the door shutting softly behind her, and Ezra tries to get his anxiety under control as Thrawn looks down at him.

“Is this the boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thrawn raises an eyebrow as he studies Ezra, and the boy can’t help but feel like one of Kallus’s prisoners in the midst of an interrogation. “He’s young.”

“I’m– I’m sixteen, my lord.”

“Still young,” Thrawn says dismissively, glancing at Kallus. “He shall certainly fit the diplomat cover. But a _ bodyguard?_”

He bristles. “I’m tall enough!”

“My observation was _ without _ touching on your height,” Thrawn comments dryly.

“I’m strong, I can—“

“Hush, boy,” Kallus says. Ezra’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click. He glances at Thrawn, wanting to open his mouth to protest, but knowing he won’t be able to.

“He only responds to physical punishment, so use that. And, ah, anything else you want to know before I leave, sir?” Kallus asks.

Thrawn shakes his head, gaze still trained on Ezra. _ He knows._ “I believe Ezra and I will find out everything we need to know about each other over the next few weeks without assistance, Spymaster. I appreciate the offer, however I have matters to attend to, and Ezra does now as well. Come, boy.” Ezra rises automatically, shooting a fearful glance at Kallus. The man ignores him.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave, then. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me.” Thrawn nods.

“Of course.”

The spymaster leaves.

* * *

Ezra leans against the wall, slowly sliding down it to sit and pull his knees to his chest. He hugs them tightly, burying his face in them and crying silently.

He misses Tash, he misses his parents, kriff he misses what it was like before all of this.

A door opens.

“Ezra.” He falls quiet, biting his lip in an attempt to keep from crying. “Get up.”

He obeys the order slowly, eyes downcast as he straightens. Thrawn stares down at him with, he knows, an unreadable expression. Thrawn’s always been a mystery. There’s a reason he stuck with Eli.

“Do your orders permit you to cry in the hallway?”

Ezra shakes his head mutely, swiping at a tear still trailing down his cheek.

“Come back in.”

Ezra re-enters, standing awkwardly in the corner. Thrawn returns to his desk, sitting and beginning to look through the stack of papers again. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing when he begins to pace, unable to contain his nervous energy any longer. Thrawn looks up briefly but returns his attention to the papers. It’s only after Ezra’s been pacing furiously for several minutes when Thrawn raises his gaze again and clears his throat.

“Sit.” The man points and nods to a chair across the room. Ezra hurries over and sits, perching on the very edge of the chair. He’s unable to keep from bouncing his leg soon after sitting.

Thrawn sighs at long last. “Go,” he says, pointing to the door. “Walk the halls. Meet me back here at noon, or sooner if I call for you. Don’t go outside.”

Ezra gives a sharp nod and almost bolts, thankfully making it around the corner before breaking into a full run. He’s not sure how far he gets within the castle before he has to stop, break down, and cry.

He leans back against the wall and slides down it, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. He can’t do this. He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t where's Eli where’s kri_ ffing Eli Eli isn’t cold like Thrawn or uncaring like Thrawn and where the kriff is Eli— _

A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps, pushing himself back and away from his assailant.

_ Her hand pulling his head up by the hair, moving to trace along his collarbone as he whimpers and begs please please please no— _

“Kid, calm down.”

He looks up, choking back breaths as he forces himself to focus on the face of the guard before him. The man’s face isn’t kind, not exactly, but it’s not unkind either.

“Are you okay?”

He gets to his feet, shaking. The guard’s brows knit together in concern and he reaches out a hand toward Ezra.

“Kid, are you—“

He bolts.

* * *

Thrawn’s guards find him in a storage room upstairs.

They bring him back down to Thrawn’s office, shoving him into a chair and standing behind it. He drops his eyes as Thrawn looks up, the man raising an eyebrow.

“Why did you run from Wellsworth?”

“Who, sir?” he asks, glancing up.

“The guard who approached you, in the hall. He said you were...indisposed and unresponsive.”

“I was _ fine, _ my lord,” he snaps. Thrawn’s eyebrow only shoots higher.

“Were you, boy?” he asks softly.

Ezra only manages to hold his gaze for a few more moments before dropping his eyes to the floor once more. “I wasn’t fine, my lord. I..._appreciate _ his checking on me.”

The edges of Thrawn’s lips curl into a faint smirk. “Guards, leave us,” he says.

Ezra hears them exit and relaxes. He lets loose a shaky breath, swallowing. “I appreciate that, my lord.”

“What I’d like to know, Ezra, is what Kallus is having you do.”

He gives a short, awkward laugh. “What, sir?”

“You know what I mean.” His eyes narrow. “What has Kallus assigned you to do while here with me? And no avoiding the question, boy. Answer my _ exact _ words.”

Ezra swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “He...told me to do what you say, sir.”

Thrawn’s hand shoots across the desk without a warning and he grasps Ezra by the front of his shirt, jerking him forward until he’s pressed painfully against the edge of the desk. A small whimper escapes his lips as his fearful gaze snaps to Thrawn.

“What is your and Kallus’s _ ulterior motive?_”

“He– he wants me to look for an– any inconsistencies with your reports to the Emperor, my lord,” he stutters, knowing it’s close enough to a truth to pass for one. Thrawn stares into his eyes for a long moment before releasing him, allowing Ezra to sit in his seat once more. He shudders involuntarily, eyeing Thrawn with much more wariness than he had only seconds before.

“Good, because there _ aren’t _ any. Your search will be fruitless,” Thrawn says solemnly, looking Ezra in the eye and daring the teen to say otherwise. He doesn’t.

Finally Thrawn clears his throat. “Dismissed. And, Ezra?”

Ezra stops, already out of his seat and halfway to the door. He doesn’t turn back, though Thrawn can apparently easily tell he’s listening, because the man speaks.

“I know what you are. You may go now.”

A spike of fear running through his heart, Ezra goes.


	6. An Outburst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dehumanization, Attempted Drowning of a Child

Ezra paces Thrawn’s study, turning sharply every time he reaches the wall. Thrawn shoots him glances periodically but, frustratingly, manages to stay focused on his paperwork. Ezra resorts to sighing loudly.

That, too, only elicits a nonchalant glance.

Finally he walks directly in front of Thrawn’s desk, clearing his throat.

“Yes, Ezra?”

“Don’t you have a job or something, sir? I can’t just stand here all day. It’s dri—“

“You are a bodyguard. This _ is _your job,” he replies evenly, still not looking up from the papers. He finishes reading a sheet and signs it, setting it aside and moving onto the next.

“But what about the diplomat cover, sir? I don’t know the first thing about—“

“Kallus reassured me that you have been briefed on the basics of court interactions.” He had been, of course. However, it seems that Kallus had neglected to mention that Ezra had also been asleep for half of that.

Finally Ezra stops and leans against the wall of Thrawn’s study, pulling out his only coin—a small bronze mark, not even enough to buy a string—and starts rolling it, watching the metal flash in the light as the disc moves over his knuckles.

_ One of the older boys shoves him into the water, wading in enough to push him under further. Ezra flails, screaming and choking on the water as it floods his mouth his eyes his lungs— _

He drops the coin.

Ezra bends to pick it up, unable to hide the shakiness of his fingers. He can feel Thrawn’s gaze on him but tries to ignore it, swallowing instead. Finally he manages to get his fingertips under the coin and flips it up, putting it back into his pocket. Thrawn’s still watching him.

“Did you need something, sir?”

“No. I was merely wondering why you possess a mark. I believed fae were not allowed to own currency.”

Ezra stills, breath catching.

_ “You’re just a faerie. Some stupid, child-stealing faerie who somehow manipulated the lord enough to live in his house and eat from his table—“ _

“It...it was a gift, sir.”

His eyes narrow. “From who?”

Ezra wets his lips, nervous now. He can’t lie. And he can’t ignore the question, either. There’s no way around this.

“From Eli, sir.”

“Ah.” Thrawn nods, still watching him with that unblinking gaze Ezra has come to fear so much before looking back down at his work. Ezra allows himself to relax.

That is, until Thrawn speaks again.

“You would do well not to dwell on the past here, boy.”

He nods. “Of– of course, sir.”

Thrawn doesn’t speak again but it still takes Ezra a while to relax. He doesn’t bring the coin out again.

* * *

The first day Thrawn lets him go out to the stables, Ezra nearly sobs with relief.

He still remembers the scathing way the Emperor referred to his magic, calling it “that of a weakling.” And to be honest, he’s right. Ezra’s magic _ is _weak—after all, being dependent on other creatures to remain functional is...not ideal.

He misses Tash.

The horses in the stables peer over their doors, snorting softly as he walks through and pauses to pet each one. He recognizes several, though not by name.

And then he reaches an empty stall.

Ezra pauses, vividly remembering the pacing, half-wild colt that’s normally there. Or at least, _ was _ normally there, back when Eli was.

“My lord? Where’s Shadow?” he asks, still staring at the vacant space. Shadow’s nameplate hasn’t left the stall, either, though he and Eli clearly have.

Thrawn doesn’t respond.

Swallowing, Ezra moves on.

Thrawn’s mare, a looming draft he remembers from when he was younger, lets out a low nicker as he approaches. Ezra can’t help but crack a smile, reaching to pet her nose.

“It seems Prymos remembers you,” Thrawn says quietly, reaching a hand from behind Ezra to rub the mare’s cheek. The dark horse snorts, leaning into the touch just as much as she does Ezra’s.

“Where’s Eli, my lord?” he asks.

“It matters not.” Prymos snorts, letting out a puff of steam. Ezra nods.

“I shouldn’t have asked, my lord. I won’t again.”

“Good. You are forbidden from doing so.”

Swallowing, he nods again. “Of course, my lord.”

After only a few minutes of stroking the draft mare’s velvety muzzle—much too short, in his opinion—Thrawn gestures. “Come. I have a meeting in half an hour.” Ezra gives Prymos a final pat and turns, leaving her and Shadow’s empty stall behind.

* * *

As they approach the council chamber, Thrawn halts abruptly. Ezra nearly runs into him and stops as well, blinking. “Why—“

“You will behave yourself, yes?” Thrawn waits for Ezra to nod before continuing, nodding to the guards at the far end.

One opens the door to the chamber and Thrawn enters, Ezra trailing behind. Thrawn sits and Ezra stands behind his chair, hands clasped behind his back so he can fidget with them as much as he needs to. The other nobles’ brows shoot up at the sight of him.

“Why do you have a boy with you?” one asks.

“Ezra is in training to be a diplomat,” Thrawn replies smoothly. “He’s from my homeland. I requested permission from the Emperor himself to train him.”

“If he turns out anything like you, it’ll be a waste,” a lord at the far end mutters under his breath. Thrawn doesn’t react, but Ezra has to stifle a snort at the comment.

“Let’s begin this meeting, shall we? I believe, Lord Casido, you had an issue with some rebel incursions?”

The man in question nods, straightening in his seat. “Yes. Recently, we’ve had more reports of the smaller insurgency groups coming into our border towns and….”

As the man continues speaking, Ezra begins to tune him out, thinking instead of the vague world he’s been making inside his head for the past several years. A world in which there’s no Kallus, there’s no Thrawn, there’s no Emperor, and there’s no _ her—_the thought makes him shudder, but no one comments on it, so maybe he’s imagining things even more now. In this world, faeries aren’t illegal.

In this world, he’s not bound by oaths to protect the Empire. He’s allowed to be himself.

“For the _ last time, _Ezra, stop fidgeting,” Thrawn hisses. Ezra snaps to attention, realizing that he’s been shifting his weight from leg to leg again.

“If you said that to Eli this much, no wonder he left, _ sir,_” Ezra growls back. He’s not sure where the anger comes from, only that it comes on quickly and without warning.

And that he regrets it moments later.

Thrawn stiffens before rising. “My aide just reminded me of something I need to attend to. My apologies. I will return shortly. Ezra, come.”

There’s a flurry of disagreement as Thrawn starts toward the door and Ezra follows him. His heart thuds against his chest as the guards open the doors and Thrawn leads the way out.

As soon as the doors are closed again, Thrawn whirls and grabs Ezra’s shirt collar before he can even think about running. “Take him to a cell, and summon the blacksmith. Tell him I have a...special request.” The guards move forward and grab Ezra’s arms, wrenching them back tightly.

“I shouldn’t have done that, sir, I—“

“I don’t care for apologies. Go with them, and don’t fight.” The moment the order is out of his mouth Ezra gives in, bowing his head and allowing the guards to drag him down another hall.


	7. The Smith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicidal Ideations, Begging for Death, Torture, Burning (via iron), Animal Injury (non-graphic), Restraint, Flashback

Sabine holds Breeze’s reins in one hand, absently scratching the mare’s muzzle with the other. The blacksmith continues hammering at the nail in the mare’s hoof, calling for his apprentice to bring another nail. The boy rushes over and Sabine returns her attention fully to the mare as Breeze shoves her nose against Sabine’s chest with a snort.

“No, no, you can’t cool it down yet! Remember how we did it the other day, with the lord’s order? Keep bending it.”

“Sorry, sir,” the boy replies, shoving the bar of metal back in the fire.

“Does the lord have you do a lot of work for his horses?” Sabine asks curiously.

“Yeah, this one wasn’t for a horse though. Not sure _ who _it was for, in all honesty.” His voice drops as he pauses in the hammering, glancing over his shoulder at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was for a faerie.”

_ Kanan needs to know about this. _

“What _ was _it?”

“Almost seemed like a muzzle of some sort. He wanted it able to keep someone’s jaw closed. Had to use Garren here to model it.”

The apprentice grimaces. “Wasn’t pleasant.”

“Why did you think it was for a faerie and not just a particularly difficult prisoner?” she asks, cocking her head. Breeze snorts, tossing her head as if to remind everyone that she’s still there. Sabine pets her neck absently.

“He wanted it made of iron.”

* * *

Sabine walks Breeze along the path, stepping around a particularly nasty root that the courser simply steps over. The campsite comes into view and she pays the mare’s neck, slowing her to a halt at the sight of Hera. The woman’s familiar, an orange tabby, lounges in the sunlight nearby and watches her arrival with a lazily flicking tail.

“Sabine, _ thank you _ for not coming into camp at a full gallop another time this week—“

“Where’s Kanan?” Sabine interrupts Hera. “I need to tell him something.”

“He’s out on patrol right now with Zeb,” Hera says. “I wanted you to take a look at Storm, too. His scratch seems to be getting worse.”

She nods, tying the mare’s head to a branch but leaving the reins long enough she can eat. Breeze snorts before dropping her head to graze, but Sabine ignores her, instead moving to the pair of geldings across the campsite. Phantom remains still though Storm raises his head as she approaches, nickering quietly.

“Hey,” Sabine murmurs, rubbing his neck with a hand before moving to look at his hock. The grey lowers his head to graze once more as Sabine carefully probes the area around the injury.

She touches the skin directly around the wound and he tosses his head up with a snort, stamping the leg she’s examining before returning his attention to the grass. Frowning, she shifts so she’s ready to jump back in an instant and touches the actual injury.

Immediately Storm whinnies, stamping and kicking out at her as she straightens up and stumbles back. She waits until the gelding calms before approaching him again, scratching his back comfortingly.

“I won’t touch it this time, don’t worry,” she says in a soft voice, running a hand down the back of his leg as if trying to lift it. He obliges, raising it for her, and she’s able to get a better look at the injury.

“Where’d you say he got this again, Hera?” she calls.

“On our last run-in with the Imperial soldiers,” the woman replies. Sabine nods to herself, allowing the palfrey to put his leg down before straightening.

“Wash it out again and keep an eye on it. We might need to put something on it to keep the infection out, too. I need to walk Breeze some more to make sure her shoes are good though, so I can do it after that unless you want to.”

“I can.” Sabine nods, patting Storm’s side once more before moving past to return to Breeze. Untacking the bay, she sets her saddle and girth along with the pad on a nearby rock. She unties the mare, backing her up when she tries to lower her head to keep grazing.

“We can get Kanan to take a look at it whenever he gets back, too. I’m gonna go walk her.” She takes Breeze’s reins and starts walking the mare toward the barely-worn path on the perimeter of the camp. She’s only halfway around the camp when hoofbeats reach her ears. Breeze stops, the mare nickering softly as Sabine turns to see Kanan and Zeb riding into view.

“Kanan! I need to talk to you about something I overheard in town.”

He nods, slowing Ghost. Zeb follows suit with Ryx. “Zeb and I saw something on patrol we need to talk to you guys about, too. Where’s Hera?”

* * *

Ezra leans against the wall, tears already dried on his cheeks. He wants to cry more, wants to scream, but he can’t find the energy in himself to do so when he’s in so much pain.

The iron on his face burns, so, _ so _ much. He can’t think through the pain, can’t think of anything _ but _the pain.

Vaguely, he remembers that Thrawn had promised he would be begging to return to his usual duties by the time his punishment was over with. Now, however, he can’t imagine _ not _being punished.

He shifts, the muzzle shifting with him, and lets out a muffled, whimpering cry again. He squeezes his eyes shut and begs every one of the Ancient Gods whose name he remembers to let him die. Dying wouldn’t hurt half as much as this does.

He shifts again, unable to help it, and the iron moves with him and digs into his chin. Ezra yelps, the cry still suppressed behind the iron, and curls into a ball on the floor.

The metal hurts, burning its way into him and making him want to claw his eyes out. _ Please please please have mercy on me let it end please— _

_ “I am the only one who can end your suffering, boy, and you need to accept that.” The Emperor’s cold, permeating voice seeps into his very soul and Ezra shivers, bowing his head. _

_ “Yes, Your Majesty,” he whispers. _

_ “So. _ Do it. _ Now, boy, before I lose my temper with you again.” _

_ He nods again, biting back a whimper as he turns to the door across the room. _

_ “Is– is there any way I—“ _

_ “I _ order you _ to do it.” _

Ezra lets out a quiet sob again, the memory only eliciting further pain from him. He can’t do this.

He can’t, he can’t, he _ can’t. _

_ Thrawn, please...I’ve learned my lesson. Please. _

No one comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet the rest of the crew!


	8. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture, Burning (via iron), Restraint, Flashback, Passing Out, Panic Attack

_ “Boy, come here.” _

_ Ezra approaches, shaking. He kneels. _

_ “You will _ listen _ to me. Understand?” _

_ He nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.” _

_ “Now. Go.” _

_ He rises and turns, trembling even more as he sees— _

Ezra blinks, the memory disappearing as suddenly as it came. He feels the sudden urge to throw up and is barely able to keep from doing so, shaking as he collapses back against the wall and pushes the bile down. The muzzle’s bad enough on its own.

_ You’re not allowed to remember, _ he reminds himself. _ And it hurts anyway. So just _don’t.

The iron continues to burn, continues to wear away at any self-restraint he has left, and he starts crying softly again.

* * *

Ghost snorts but Kanan continues pushing her forward, unable to rid his mind of the incessant pleading.

Sabine had been right. There _ is _a faerie, very close. One in excruciating pain, enough to make them cry out to any other fae in the vicinity.

It’s enough to make his blood boil.

Clouds of earth fly up from the ground as Ghost’s hooves tear into it. Slightly behind, Phantom and Sabine follow. He can tell Sabine’s irritated with the fact that the pony isn’t as in tune with her as Breeze is, but the courser can’t be ridden for at least a day due to her recent shoeing. Zeb follows last, having borrowed Hera’s horse because Storm’s always been faster than Ryx. Hera’s already preparing for the arrival of the unknown faerie, gathering what she needs to ward off any infection caused by the iron.

Kanan only hopes they’re not too late.

They slow as they reach the city limits, and Kanan pulls Ghost up to a brisk trot. The mare chomps at the bit, snorting loudly, and he pats her neck absently. “Easy, girl,” he murmurs.

“Kanan, where’re we headed from ‘ere?” Zeb asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Sabine said the lord was the one who had them. If that’s the case, they’ll likely be in the lord’s dungeons.”

“Please tell me I’m not on distraction duty _ again,_” Sabine groans.

“It _ works._ The average person in this part of the Empire’s never _ seen _ a Mandalorian. They’ll want—“

“I can’t vault on a kriffing _ pony,_” she grumbles. “Breeze is wider.”

“Challenge them to a race, then, whatever. I don’t care. Just provide a distraction so we can get them and get out.”

She sighs loudly. “Fine.” She taps Phantom’s sides with her heels and the gelding speeds up, taking her further into the city.

Kanan glances over at Zeb. “You ready, big guy?”

“I guess. Still wanna be sure they’re i’ the dungeons though. What if they’re bein’ ‘eld elsewhere?”

“Only one way to find out,” he says, shrugging. Ghost understands what he’s asking before he even does and moves up into a working trot, headed toward the lord’s estate.

* * *

Kanan hesitates in front of the door to the dungeons.

_ They’re not down there. _

He turns, already striding away. “Where you goin’? I thought you said they were in the dungeons. You made a big deal about i’, in fact.”

Kanan shakes his head as Zeb catches up. “No. I don’t think they are. I’m not sensing any motives that are even remotely similar to what theirs would be.”

Zeb shrugs. “Jes’ keep in mind whatever Sabine’s distraction is won’t last long.”

“I know,” Kanan says, voice tight. He’s well aware they’re working within a schedule.

* * *

Ezra’s eyes crack open as the door opens.

_ Thrawn? _

It’s not Thrawn.

Two men enter, both unfamiliar. He groans, the sound muffled by the muzzle, shifting back against the wall again. Maybe they’re here as Thrawn’s proxies. Maybe he’s finally being released.

One of the men crouches by him while the other stands guard at the doorway. The one next to him has his hair tied back, and seems vaguely familiar.

“We’re getting you out of here, okay? Can you stand up?”

Weakly, he tries to, but the iron’s sapped so much strength he ends up collapsing again. He shakes his head, swallowing.

The man sighs and turns to the one on guard. “Zeb, can you come help me with– with the muzzle? It’s iron.”

“Ah, karabast,” the larger man mutters, turning and approaching. The one with the hair in a tail rises, watching with knitted brows as the guard—Zeb, he’d been called? it’s taking too much strength to pay attention to any of this—carefully removes his muzzle. He picks Ezra up then, dropping the muzzle with a _ clang _ and carefully leaning Ezra against his shoulder. Ezra relaxes into the hold, already starting to feel better with the combination of physical contact and the removal of the iron.

The nameless man gestures. “Come on.” Zeb follows, and Ezra watches as his room disappears and Zeb eases the door shut.

Vaguely, he thinks they need to hurry. He remembers that his rooms are next to Thrawn’s to facilitate his bodyguard role, and remembers that Thrawn was spending the day out of his quarters. But he could return at any moment.

They speed through the halls, the nameless man occasionally stopping and directing Zeb another way. Soon they’re outside, and Ezra winces at the sunlight, halfway burying his head in Zeb’s chest in an effort to hide from the light.

They reach a pair of horses tethered in the courtyard, a girl on a rouncey nearby. She beckons and they rush over, the nameless man mounting quickly before turning to Zeb. 

“Here, kid,” Zeb says softly, prying Ezra off of him and carefully passing him up to the other man. Ezra nearly falls off until the man pulls him back, pressing him back against his chest.

“Careful,” he murmurs. Ezra nods tiredly, the effects of the iron still lingering. “We ready?”

“Yeah,” the girl answers, tightening her reins as Zeb mounts the third horse. “Let’s go.”

The trio turns and starts trotting away, Ezra only strong enough to lean back against his rescuer in an effort not to fall off. As they near the edge of the estate, however, an alarm seems to ring in his mind.

_ Thrawn said you’re not allowed to leave. And you promised to obey all of his commands. You’re disobeying you’re disobeying you’re— _

He starts to struggle weakly, pushing back against the man and trying to sit up. “I need– I need to go back—“

“Hey, hey, calm down, kid. You’re okay, we’re rescuing you. You’re okay.”

“Can’t– I can’t leave– I can’t disobey orders—“

“No, kid, shhh, you’re okay. We’re saving you, you won’t have to touch iron ever again—“

“I can’t leave, can’t can’t can’t—“ he gasps out.

They near the edge of the estate and Ezra’s heart starts beating more wildly as he pushes back again, trying to dismount even as the horse beneath him continues trotting. _ You can’t leave you can’t leave you can’t leave— _

They reach the edge of the estate, and Ezra passes into darkness.


	9. The Bodyguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Catatonic Character, Implied/Referenced Torture, Referenced Restraint, Referenced Burns (via iron)

“He should’ve woken up by now.”

Sabine paces the campsite, unable to sit still. The boy they’d rescued—because he is that, he _ is _ only a boy—is still unconscious, even hours later.

Worse, when she had ridden Phantom to the outskirts of town an hour ago, she’d already seen patrols of soldiers. The boy’s absence has already been noticed.

“I know, Kanan,” Hera says gently. “I’m worried too.”

“We’ll need to move soon,” Sabine says, maybe for the fifth time. “There’s patrols out right now, and—“

“I know,” Kanan says. “I don’t wanna move him until we know what the issue is though.”

“‘e said somethin’ before ‘e passed out, didn’ ‘e?”

Kanan hesitates before nodding. “He kept saying he couldn’t leave. Something about orders, I think.”

“Do you think he was bound?”

He glances at Hera, brows furrowing. “He could be. It’d explain why we didn’t find him in the dungeons.”

Sabine stops short, turning to stare incredulously at Kanan. “You didn’t find him in the dungeons and you still thought it was fine to just _ take him? _ He’s probably a political prisoner in that case! You might’ve just started a whole kriffing _ war!_”

“Sabine, Kanan did not start a war,” Hera says, sighing. “But she _ does _have a point, love: you didn’t think it was weird, his being out of the dungeons?”

Kanan hesitates, staring at the still-unconscious boy. “It was,” he finally admits.

Sabine bites her lip, gaze following the slow rise and fall of the boy’s chest. He hasn’t shown any reaction to anything, and according to Kanan, he’s been out since the minute they left the estate.

“We’ll give it another day,” Kanan announces decisively after several minutes of thought. “But then, if he still hasn’t improved, we’re taking more direct action.”

* * *

The next day finds them taking more direct action.

Kanan rides Ghost at the head of their small group, keeping the mare only barely reined in at a trot; Sabine and Breeze flank his left while Zeb and Storm flank his right, and the kid is sitting in front of him on the saddle, still unconscious.

Kanan keeps them away from the patrols, and as they reach the estate’s edge they only run into three guards.

Zeb takes care of them in seconds.

As they cross the border onto the estate, Kanan feels the boy stir. He glances down as the kid’s eyes crack open and he glances up, gaze bleary.

“Where...where am I?”

“We’re going to release your orders,” Kanan says softly, helping the kid sit up better. He nods tiredly.

They reach the estate steps and stop, Kanan dismounting slowly so the kid doesn’t fall off in his still-weakened state. Sabine’s off before Breeze has even fully stopped, and she waits for the others at the foot of the stairs to the main doors. As she waits, she calls in a loud whisper, “Kid, are you a political prisoner?”

The boy blinks in confusion and Kanan sighs, shaking his head as Zeb chuckles.

“It’s fine, kid. Don’t worry about it. Here.” Kanan helps the kid dismount after Zeb does, and the quartet heads up the stairs. Sabine draws one of her knives.

Kanan supports the kid as he leads them through the halls. The kid seems confused that Kanan knows where to go, but the motives of those in the building are easy enough to sense and avoid.

He can’t help but repress a snort at the reading he gets from Sabine; her prevailing motive right now is a very strong urge to stab whoever the lord of this estate is.

It’s then that he realizes that they don’t even know who the lord even _ is, _ much less the kid’s name. Kanan glances down at him as they walk.

“What can I call you?”

“You can ca- call me Ezra,” he mumbles, blinking as he makes brief eye contact before looking away again. “And why can’t I feel you?”

It’s Kanan’s turn to blink now. “What?”

“Your Trace. You don’t have one. But you could- couldn’t touch the iron in my room, so yo- you’re fae. Why don’t you have one?”

“I’m...not full fae, if that’s what you’re referring to,” he says slowly as they round the corner. It’s the only thing he can think of that Ezra would be able to feel, unless he’s like Kanan and he can sense motives. But Kanan’s never heard of anyone else who can do that.

Anyone else _ alive, _he amends with a silent pang.

“Either way, you can call me Kanan.” Ezra nods.

“Kanan. I think I’ve met you before.”

Kanan slows as Sabine and Zeb move past. He studies the kid, and with a jolt, he realizes he recognizes him. “Yeah, yeah, I met you before, too, that one day at the fountain in the Lower City. Kriff, I thought you were gonna kill me,” he admits with a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Glad you didn’t.”

Ezra hesitates before starting to stumble forward again in an effort to catch up with the others. Kanan follows.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Kanan points for the group to turn down another hall and Ezra stops, shaking his head. The movement highlights his burns from the muzzle and Kanan grimaces.

“His study is this way. He’ll be in there, come on.”

The kid leads the way down the hall they’re already in and Kanan follows hesitantly, Sabine and Zeb trailing behind. The boy halts in front of an unmarked door and turns halfway.

“He should be in there.”

Kanan nods, able to feel the man’s motives. Motives that, at the moment, seem to be related to appeasing the Emperor and recovering something lost. He grits his teeth. _ Ezra. _

“Sabine, us first. Zeb, keep our way out secure and Ezra, you can come in after Sabine and I do.” The kid nods and Kanan draws his longsword; Sabine putting away her knife and drawing her daggers. They nod to each other, and Kanan opens the door.

The pair rushes in, the kid following behind. Kanan has his swordpoint at the lord’s throat before the man can even blink, and Sabine has a dagger raised already in preparation to throw.

“Ah, Ezra. I suspected you would return at some point soon.”

“Release his orders, _ now,_” Kanan barks.

“Or what?” the man asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kanan takes a step forward, the blade now just inches from the lord’s throat.

“You die.”

The lord smirks faintly, raising an eyebrow. “Ezra,” he calls. The boy steps forward and, much to Kanan’s chagrin, closer to the noble. “Your standing orders not to leave the estate are released.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

Kanan watches the interaction anxiously, casting a quick glance at Sabine. She offers a minute shrug in reply.

“_However,_” the noble says, and Kanan’s head whips back around to him hard enough to hurt, “I believe these people are posing a threat to my life. Am I correct in believing you have standing orders relating to that…?”

Ezra pales but nods shakily. “Ye- yeah, sir.” He turns back to Kanan and Sabine.

“I have to ask you to go.”

“No! We’re not leaving without you,” Sabine protests.

“You- you have to. It’s...it’s one of the rules,” he says.

Kanan hesitates a moment longer.

And then he lowers his sword.


	10. Atoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture, Burning (via iron), Seven’s General Creepiness Toward Ezra, Dehumanization, Referenced Forced Abandonment, Solitary Confinement, Child Abuse, Restraint

Kanan canters Ghost into camp, sighing inwardly as he sees Hera’s alarmed glance.

“We need to go,” he says hoarsely.

Sabine and Zeb canter in after him and Hera’s gaze falls to them, brows knitting together in worry. “Where’s the boy?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Kanan says. “But they’ll be coming after us. We need to go.”

Hera nods as Zeb approaches, dismounting Storm and handing the reins to her before rushing to saddle Ryx. The donkey tosses his head, threatening to kick out as he tightens the girth. Kanan watches blankly, his mind wandering back to the terrified glance Ezra had shot at him as the door to the study closed.

_ You failed him. _

He swallows dryly, gaze still unseeing as Zeb and Hera, the latter holding Chopper, mount. Hera walks Storm to where Phantom’s tied to a tree, saddle bags already packed, and unties the rope, walking back over to Kanan and handing him the lead. He takes it mechanically and ties it to Ghost’s pommel.

“Let’s go,” Hera says, gaze still on Kanan. He nods absently, turning Ghost and pushing the mare into a trot.

_ Ezra swallows, a tear falling. “Please go. I don’t– I don’t wanna hurt you.” _

He’s not sure how long they’ve been riding when Hera rides up next to him, clearing her throat. “What happened?”

“We gave him back,” he says, the words distant. It doesn’t feel like they’re even his own.

“Why?!”

“He was bound more than we thought he was. He had standing orders to attack anyone who threatened the lord’s life.” Kanan sucks in a shaky breath. “He—_gods, _ Hera, I’m so _ sick _ of this—they were using him as a bodyguard. They turned one of the fae into a– a kriffing _ bodyguard._” He swallows, hard, and tightens his fingers around the reins. “They’re turning us into kriffing _ tools. Weapons. _ And you saw how young he was, Hera. He was...he was just a kid.”

Hera doesn’t reply for a minute, letting a long silence stretch out before clearing her throat. “For what it’s worth, I want you to know you tried your hardest. There’s no way you could have possibly foreseen that. And I know he knows you tried. He won’t hold it against you, if he’s got any amount of sense.” She cracks a slight smile and, after a moment, he returns it.

“I appreciate that.”

* * *

Kallus knocks and enters Thrawn’s study in the same moment, face dark. His gaze immediately flicks to Ezra, the boy standing in the shadows slightly behind Thrawn with his hands clasped behind his back.

“My lord, Ezra,” he says, nodding to each. “Now. Why don’t one of you explain _ what in the seven realms _is going on here?”

Ezra opens his mouth but Thrawn starts first, still sitting. Kallus pushes aside the slight anger that rises at the disrespect. There’s more important things right now.

Like the fact the Emperor’s going to have his head if he doesn’t figure out what’s going on.

“Ezra spoke out during a meeting with several other lords in the region, and he was punished accordingly. Show him your scars.”

Ezra takes a step forward, and Kallus recognizes the not-quite-healed burns on his lower face as those from iron.

“What were you punished with, boy?”

“An iron muzzle, sir,” Ezra says, voice hoarse.

Kallus nods. He’ll have to keep that idea in mind next time the boy acts up. “Anything else?”

“Shortly after he was imprisoned, a group of faeries came and broke him out. I am unsure of how they got through our defenses, though I know one was from the Mandalorian province.”

Kallus stiffens. The Mandalorian people are siding with the resistance now?

The Emperor needs to know immediately. The longer they go without dealing with this threat, the more of an issue it becomes.

“And why is he here now instead of with them?”

“They realized he was bound and returned, presumably after he fell unconscious. They came to my study after killing several guards and demanded I release him from his orders. I instead invoked his orders as bodyguard and he escorted them out. I have people tracking them as we speak.”

“Good,” Kallus says. “The Emperor requested I take Ezra back now. Boy, come.”

Ezra moves forward, casting a glance back at Thrawn.

“I release your orders,” the noble says. Ezra nods gratefully.

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

“Come,” Kallus says, nodding to the door. Ezra follows him silently, and Kallus smiles inwardly. Thrawn had never seemed the type to excel at physical punishments, but clearly what he’s done to Ezra has been effective.

* * *

“This isn’t the way home,” Ezra says. It’s the first thing he’s said since Kallus stopped questioning him on the validity of Thrawn’s statements.

“No, it’s not,” Kallus replies, glancing absently out the carriage window at the darkening sky.

“Where are we going, then?”

“Coruscant,” Kallus answers. Ezra stiffens, swallowing hard.

“Am I– am I in trouble?”

“I believe you’ve been punished enough, however the Emperor will have the final word on that.”

He can’t help trembling at Kallus’s words. He doesn’t know the Emperor, not the way Ezra knows him. He knows the man’s front, his charming aura that’s only a cover for what lies beneath.

The worst part is that Ezra’s not even sure just _ why _he hates the man so much.

* * *

They reach Coruscant, and then the fae barracks, and finally the palace. Fear thuds arhythmically in Ezra’s chest and he swallows, stepping out of the carriage to follow Kallus. The spymaster leads the way up the steps and waits as two servants open the doors. Ezra follows him inside, already choking on the scent of iron. They’re led to the throne room in silence and stop a few feet before the throne.

Kallus drops to one knee while Ezra kneels fully, bowing until his forehead is touching the cool stone.

“My liege,” Kallus says.

“The Light-Bringer, our savior, His Highest Majesty,” Ezra says, reciting the words they’d drilled into his head when he was in training. Faerie words for addressing the Emperor are designed for the maximum emphasis on the fact that he had saved them from complete extinction, that he’d selected a scarce few to join his ranks.

Ezra is one of those cursed few.

“You sent word he ran off,” the Emperor starts in a low voice. Ezra resists the urge to look up at him.

“He did. However, when the time came for him to fight off his kidnappers, he did so admirably, Your Majesty.”

“Boy.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Report to your trainer. She will do with you as she sees fit.”

A shudder runs through him but he nods, rising and still keeping his gaze down. “Of course, Your Majesty.” Still shaking, he departs, leaving Kallus and the Emperor behind as he starts to search for Liana.

He’s barely turned down a second corridor out of the throne room when the woman runs into him, smiling.

“I didn’t think you’d return so soon, my boy.”

“Just get it over with,” he mutters. “I’m tired.”

She smirks. “I can work with that. Heel.” He obeys, following her and hating the fact that it makes him feel like her dog. Though, he reflects as they wind their way to solitary, isn’t that what he is? He does what they say, he tracks down who they tell him to, and he doesn’t complain.

He’s only worth what they say he is, no more. Not that he would _ deserve _anything more.

Liana halts in front of a door made of solid oak. He can’t help but start trembling again, closing his eyes as his breathing starts to come in fast, shuddering gasps.

“Oh, calm down. You’re fine.” Liana steps forward, pulling a glove on one hand before unlocking the door. She pushes it in and gestures to the cell. Ezra steps in warily, tears already springing to his eyes. Liana pulls another glove on and grabs his upper arm, dragging him to the manacles attached to the ceiling. She pulls them down and jerks his arm up, pushing his sleeve up and cuffing one to his wrist. The iron starts burning immediately and he gasps, crying out and trying to pull away as she grabs for his other arm. She slaps him, and he whimpers but continues pulling away.

Liana grabs him by the hair, wrenching his head back as she stares into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know,” she murmurs.

“Please, just– just leave me alone,” he whimpers.

“You’re cute when you beg, so maybe I’ll listen.” Smirking, she grabs his other arm and attaches the cuff to his wrist before raising the manacles again so his feet are barely scraping the floor.

She pulls something from her pocket and, with a jolt, he realizes it’s a blindfold. She brings it to his eyes and he flinches, trying to stumble backward even as the iron digs into his skin. “Shh, darling. If you’re still and good, maybe you’ll get a treat.” He fights more at that, even going so far as to snap his teeth in a failed attempt to bite her hand.

“So feisty today.” She finally manages to get the blindfold over his eyes, tying it tightly behind his head as he whimpers. “Bye-bye, pet,” she murmurs, cupping his cheek in a rare show of gentleness. “Have fun.”

She laughs at that comment, though he’s not sure why. He gets the feeling it’s a joke at his expense.

With the manacles secured, Liana exits, shutting the door and leaving him in solitude.


	11. The Unbecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy chapter. Read the warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child Abuse, Restraint, Torture of a Child, Burning (via iron), Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault of a Child (actual event happens offscreen), Victim Blaming, Dissociation, Slight Stockholm Syndrome due to Touch-starved Condition of a Character

When the door opens who knows how long later, Ezra feels like his arms are going to fall off.

Whoever enters doesn’t announce themselves, only shuts the door behind them and stands in silence for several long minutes. He begins to squirm, somehow even more frustrated with the blindfold than he was before.

“You look even prettier when you do that, darling,” a voice says. He freezes.

Footsteps as Liana approaches him. A hand ghosting over his throat, lingering just long enough to make him nervous before moving to the back of his neck.

“Ple– please leave,” he whispers, remembering her rules about begging.

“Mm, no.” She starts to rub the back of his neck, and a small part of him that he hates almost _ likes _it because kriff it this is the most physical contact he’s had in who knows how long, and he has no clue when he’ll have more again.

“You’re so tense. Am I scaring you?” she asks in a low voice. “Answer me.”

“...yes,” he admits with a squeak. Her hand tightens briefly on the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin despite the gloves.

“_Good,_” she murmurs.

Ezra wants to sob.

“I’m going to play a game with you, all right? If you do good, maybe I’ll let you have a little reward after.”

“Okay,” he agrees. It’s naïve, he knows, to hope for her to leave him alone, but he still does.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say, and you’re going to answer my questions fully as you do so. First...lie down.”

His mind screeches to a halt as she releases his neck and uncuffs his wrists. His knees buckle and he collapses to his knees, arms shaking.

“I said lie _ down. _ Not _ kneel—_though that is a _ very _good look on you. You should do it more often.” He represses a shudder but still doesn’t lie down, tilting his head up to look in the direction her voice has been coming from.

“Lie _ down, _ pet. This is the last time I will ask you _ nicely._”

He still doesn’t obey.

She gives a furious sigh, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him onto his side as he yelps. “I didn’t _ want _to hurt you, sweet, but you forced my hand. Now. Who is your master?”

“You and the Em– Emperor and Kallus,” he says quickly, hoping it’s enough to appease her and she’ll tire of toying with him by now and just take his blindfold off.

“Good boy,” she croons, voice suddenly much closer. He tries to sit up but a firm hand pushes his shoulder back down.

“Ah ah ah. I never said we were done with our game, did I? In fact, we’ve barely begun.” She pulls his the collar of his tunic down and starts running a hand along his collarbone. He shudders, and a sudden stroke of fear hits him. He knows what she’s doing, what she’s about to do.

“Please do– do– don’t.”

“Shh, pet, shh. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it? That was a question.”

He shakes his head wildly as her hand moves from his collarbone to wipe away tears—he’s crying? since when has he been crying?—and he lets out a broken sob.

“I won’t.”

“I think—“

He pushes back, now that she’s distracted by her own reply. He manages to sit up, forcing his still-shaking arms to push himself to his feet—

She pulls him back down again with only a hand on his wrist and he yelps as she aggravates the burns. “Those will be fun to play with, too,” she murmurs, almost as if talking to herself. Ezra keeps pushing back against her. She drags his head up by the hair before slamming it roughly down against the stone again, _ tsk _ing.

“Good children are _ quiet _ and _ do what they’re supposed to do._”

“N– no,” he mutters, shaking his head. Liana sighs, pulling his head up and shoving it back down again. “No, don’t, please don’t no please—“

“Quiet.”

He’s forced to obey her order, even as tears start streaming from under the blindfold.

_ Please please just leave please just get the kriff out of here please leave me alone please I’ll be good I promise I’ll be good I’ll be—_

* * *

He falls asleep out of pure exhaustion at some point, and when he wakes, she’s gone. The blindfold is gone, too, and the door is open. There's no orders, no guidelines. He leaves the room as soon as he feels okay enough to stand.

He can’t feel anything else.

His arms are still shaking, enough that he can’t stop them even if he tried. He staggers further down the hallway after a moment, leaning against a wall and sliding down it. He winces as he hits the ground, getting up again. He can’t stay here. He needs to keep moving. That’s all that makes it into his mind long enough to stick.

_ Keep moving. _

Ezra starts stumbling down the hall, but he’s barely halfway when someone rounds the corner too quickly for him to run.

He stops.

Cal Kestis narrows his eyes, hesitating only a second before striding down so fast Ezra doesn’t have a chance to duck out of the way. Cal grabs his collar, turning and shoving him against the wall.

“Back to _ visit?_” he snarls.

“I– I—“

“Don’t give me excuses. Trilla told me _ exactly _what you’re doing here.”

“I haven’t even _ seen _ Trilla!” he shouts, suddenly angry. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, only that he’s furious. Furious with Cal, furious with Liana, furious with the Emperor, furious with _ himself. _

“I don’t know how you found a loophole, and I don’t care. Just admit it. I have a pretty good guess of what you were doing in there.”

“Just leave me _ alone!_” He tries to pull out of Cal’s grasp, but he just shoves him back against the wall again. “If you wanna know the truth, _ here!_” He pulls the mark Eli gave him from his pocket, shoving it towards Cal. The latter shies away, but only slightly.

“No. I’m not touching that,” he growls.

He grabs Ezra by the collar again, clearly meaning to shove him back against the wall once more, but instead he gasps.

Ezra takes the chance to pull away from him, stumbling backward as Cal stares blankly at the wall for a moment. Seconds later he blinks, shaking his head before glancing at Ezra.

“Leave me alone,” he says, tired of fighting. “Just leave me alone.”

Cal hesitates before approaching, lowering his voice. “Trilla...she found a loophole somehow, to– to lie. I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, just—“

“I’m _ not _ leaving you alone, because we’re getting out of here. _ Together._”


	12. Demons' Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt “Damaged Vocal Cords.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Fire, Referenced Injuries from Said Fire, Referenced Suicide, Referenced Assimilation/Cultural Genocide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Referenced Sexual Assault, Victim Self-blaming, Sensory Overload, Referenced Burning (via iron and fire), Dehumanization of Self, Dissociation

Kanan reins Ghost in, ignoring the mare’s snorts as she paws at the ground. “Hush,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the path ahead.

“What is it?” Hera asks softly.

“I thought...never mind,” he says instead, shaking his head. “Let’s keep going.”

Hera falls quiet once more and Kanan loosens his reins, allowing Ghost to move forward once more. Slowly, conversations among the rest of the group begin to pick back up.

“Yeah, it’s Mandalorian. Made specifically _ for _use on saddles, see?”

He doesn’t need to glance back to know Sabine is pointing out something to Zeb, nor to see the expression on the man’s face as he asks, “An’ why ain’t that more common? Seems pretty useful t’ me.”

_ Something’s wrong. _

“The Empire, that’s why,” she says with a loud sigh. “The Emperor prohibited exports from us beyond horses for a while, then sent soldiers to capture all the artisans who specialized in making them so he could have full control over the production.”

“I still ain't seen that before.”

“I’m _ getting _ there, slow down big guy. Anyway, so the Emperor brought them all in, right, and _ then _ you know what they did? They all went on strike. They did a hunger strike, and then they all died, because they didn’t want the Empire to take that piece of our culture like it has all the others.”

_ “And why can’t I feel you? Your Trace. You don’t have one.” _

“The Emperor really jes’ wants t’ take o’er everythin’ at this point, e’en the Bitter Seas.”

“He really does,” Sabine admits with a sigh. “But at least Mother still has as much control over our clan as she can.”

_ “Who’s the kid?” _

_ “He works for me.” _

“Do you know when Tristan’s visiting again?” Hera interrupts. “And if he’s bringing more horses? Fulcrum mentioned he should be soon.”

“No, not yet. Or if they’ve sent a letter, I don’t know about it. Now that you say that, though, it _ has _been a while since….”

_ “He’s a fae hunter.” _

Kanan pulls Ghost to a halt, ignoring the mare’s snort once more.

“What is it?” Hera asks, walking Storm closer.

“Hera,” he whispers. “If we want to win this war….

“We need to get the kid out again. For real this time.”

* * *

Once, when Ezra was young, he had been in a fire.

The smoke had chafed at his throat and lungs, the flames burning slightly less than iron but still painful—not in the cold-hot-_aching _ way that iron has, but still painful enough he wouldn’t want to go through it again. He had fallen unconscious somewhere inside, and had fallen asleep almost immediately upon rescue. He had slept for several days, he was told, and when he woke, he felt he was in a dream from the combination of his voice rasping for several days and the way moving at all seemed to thrust him back into the flames.

He feels that way now.

Every step is fire on his insides, his stomach twisting with the memory of– of—

_ Don’t. _

He inhales shakily, swallowing hard. He doesn’t want it to be like this.

He just wants to be back with Kallus, where everything made _ sense. _ Yes, it hurt, but the rules made sense. He didn’t– he wasn’t—

_ Stop. _

Ezra runs a hand over his face, swallowing hard. He’s been holed up in the quarters he shares with Cal—on the rare occasions Ezra’s even _ in _the capital—for at least a full day now, maybe longer. He hasn’t seen anyone, not since Cal had found him in the hallway.

_ Breaking down like just a little _kid….

He hasn’t done that since he left Thrawn, and before that not in at least a year or so. His magick relies on other people, he knows; that’s why he tends to break down more often when he’s not with them.

The Emperor had made sure he learned that.

Despite that, the sensory overload from Liana had overwhelmed him, bringing his brain to a blank slate of static. His mind hums, yet he can’t think of anything beyond his failure. He can still _ feel _ his pain, however, and _ that’s _what makes him able to hurt despite the numbness.

_ If we’re demons without souls, then how come I can feel everything so _ vividly? _ Isn’t a soul what _ _makes_ _ you _ able _ to feel? _

He shouldn’t be able to, he knows. Lady Pryce was right.

He doesn’t deserve to live in the same space as any of them.

There’s a brief knock on the door before it cracks open, Cal entering and shutting it behind him.

“Here,” he says, passing a small bundle of plants to Ezra. The faerie frowns, glancing up in confusion.

“They’ll help with the pain.” Cal nods to them. “Rosemary, mostly, some lavender too. Don’t eat the second.”

“I can’t even tell them apart,” he says flatly. Cal sighs as Ezra hands them back, separating them into two slightly smaller piles and setting them on the cot.

“Rosemary on the right; the lavender’s to smell.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” he mutters, pushing the left pile back as Cal sits.

“The rosemary, at least. It’ll help.”

Ezra shakes his head mutely, scooting further back on the cot and pulling his knees up to his chest. After a moment, Cal sighs and takes the plants back.

“Where’d you even get those?”

“Around,” he says, shrugging. “Trilla knows people, and poisons. And she doesn’t check her stores much when she’s busy.”

“You stole them?”

“More like permanently borrowed.” Cal cracks a slight grin, but it just makes Ezra’s stomach drop more.

_ Liana smiling as he writhes on the ground, sobbing softly. _

_ “Shh, boy. The more you struggle the more it’ll hurt.” _

“Has Liana been…?”

Cal’s smile vanishes and he drops his gaze. “Do you want the truth?”

“What else can we tell?”

Sighing, the older faerie speaks. “She’s been talking about it occasionally, more just...referencing it. It’s easy enough to tell her meaning if you know what she did, though.”

Ezra shifts farther back against the wall.

“If it helps, I may have found us a way out.”

“Okay.”

Cal takes that as a yes and begins speaking again. “I was thinking back over my initial orders, and I’m allowed out to assist with the hunts sometimes, right? I’m guessing you are too. Anyway, they...they said we couldn’t go out without an order.”

“You think the Emperor will give us an order to leave?” he asks, voice hollow.

“That’s the thing. It doesn’t _ need _to be him. Just someone above us.”

Ezra laughs, the sound vacant. He picks at the tattered sheet on the bed as he says, “And you honestly think Liana would do that?”

“No. But I think Trilla might.”

Ezra feels a spark of hope for the first time in several days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> january 2020, finally over? it's more likely than you'd think


	13. What We Make It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Victim Blaming, Vague Reference to Suicidal Ideations, Referenced Sexual Assault, Seven's General Creepiness Toward Children, Restraint, Character Death, Slight Sensory Overload, Flashbacks

Ezra’s not sure what, exactly, Cal says to get Trilla out of her quarters, but whatever it is he does must work.

Because, only mere seconds later, Trilla exits just behind him.

Ezra immediately moves behind her as Cal turns, drawing his rondel and grabbing Trilla’s arm at the same time. He shoves her against the wall, grappling with her briefly as she tries to draw her own blade. He grabs for her wrist, apparently pressing hard enough her grip loosens on the blade and he can kick it away. Ezra moves to grab it before she can react.

Cal takes the opening and puts his own blade to her throat.

“What do you want?” she spits, glaring at him. Ezra moves backward as Cal answers.

“You’re gonna order us to leave, or I’m going to slit your throat.”

She laughs, the sound cold and menacing.

_ Liana laughs softly, brushing hair out of his face, and he whimpers. “You’re perfect like this, you know.” _

“You think I’m going to do _ what? _ Just let you leave, out of the blue? No. I’d like to _ keep _my skin, thank you very much. Why don’t you go ask Liana; Bridger seems to have quite the eff—”

Ezra doesn’t look to see what Cal does that makes Trilla fall silent, instead crossing to the wall opposite the pair and leaning against it.

_ “You want this. I can tell.” _

_ “I don’t—” _

_ “Quiet!” _

_ A hand, covering his mouth, as her other hand— _

“You won’t say another _ word _ about that, you hear me?” Cal is murmuring when Ezra comes back to himself. “Or you will _ not _leave this palace alive.”

“And what makes you think I want to?” she asks, voice strained. Ezra risks a glance over to see Cal has his blade against her throat hard enough to hurt, but still not quite break the skin.

“Do it,” the man snaps. “Say the order.”

“I _ order _ you to...let. Me. _ Go._”

Cal hesitates for mere seconds before he’s forced to step back, pulling the rondel with him. He moves forward to slash at her with it as she scores a kick on his legs hard enough to make him stumble for a moment.

“Bridger, the knife,” she says, risking a glance at Ezra.

_ It wasn’t an order. _

He swallows, approaching slowly as Cal rises. She turns just enough of her attention to Cal to sweep his legs out from under him with another kick before turning back to Ezra.

“The knife, _ now, _ please.”

Cal moves to get up and she turns, kneeling over him and pinning his hands to the floor with one hand, knocking his dagger from it. She keeps her other hand open and up, waiting for her own blade.

Ezra reaches her and stops. He shoots a glance at the faerie pinned to the ground, and Trilla restraining him.

_ It wasn’t an order. _

He slashes for Trilla’s neck.

She whirls, teeth bared in a feral snarl as she grabs his wrist. She twists it backwards and grabs for the knife as he cries out, stumbling back in a vain attempt to get away. She simply pins him against the wall.

_ Liana pins his wrists against the floor, voice soft as she warns, “Don’t move.” _

He shoves back against Trilla, breathing hard as he manages to twist his arm out of her grip. He quickly gets behind her as she turns, rushing forward to grab the knife from her again. They grapple for only a second before he emerges victorious, holding the blade at her throat as she glares at him, breathing hard.

“Well, well, isn’t this..._ something._”

His stomach plummets.

Liana’s cool voice echoes throughout the hall as he hears her walk closer, ignoring the urge to turn and look. “My pet, genuinely fighting _ back? _ Or is it something _ else _I’m walking in on…?”

“Take your filthy kid, I want nothing to do with him,” Trilla spits, trying to shove against Ezra’s grip. He only tightens his hold, adrenaline from the combination of the prolonged contact and Liana’s presence forcing his brain into overdrive.

“Gladly,” she chuckles.

Ezra realizes he hasn’t heard anything from Cal in a long minute.

“Darling, I have a proposition for you; I would love it if you would come here,” Liana says. He shudders.

“Yes, go to your master, boy,” Trilla growls under her breath. He tries to ignore her.

_ It wasn’t a direct order. _

“Why don’t– why don’t you just tell me here?” he asks, voice weaker than he would like.

“That can be arranged. You _ do _look prettier when you’re struggling.” He swallows back a retort.

“I have Kestis, right here, behind my blade,” she says without preamble.

_ She’s lying. _

Fae can’t lie. He knows that.

_ But she _ has _to be; Cal wouldn’t let himself get caught like that._

“Let Suduri go, and I’ll let her own apprentice be, too. Then the four of us can part ways and all will be well again.”

He struggles to think through the adrenaline long enough to mutter, “I don’t believe you.”

She laughs. Actually, genuinely _ laughs, _ not one of her little half-chuckles that strike fear so deeply into his core.

He swallows hard.

“That’s a shame, really, it truly, truly is...how about this, dear: I give you till the count of three to let her go, and Kestis doesn’t die.”

_ She’s lying. _

“One.”

_ She’s lying she’s lying she has to be lying— _

“Two.”

_ Please please _ please _ if any of the gods are really out there _ anyone _ please let her be lying please plea— _

“Three. Time’s up.” She waits for a moment, and Ezra almost lets go of Trilla.

_ Almost. _

And then he hears Cal’s gurgled scream.


	14. Ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’d prefer to skip the graphic death, you should be good to go if you start at “Watch, boy” without missing too much :)
> 
> TW: Blood, Graphic Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Throat Slitting, Victim Self-blaming

Ezra’s hand shakes as he hesitates only a second.

When he hears Cal collapse to the floor, he stumbles backward.

Trilla rubs her throat, narrowing her eyes as Ezra turns.

Cal lies on the floor, gasping for breath, blood oozing from a thin line across his throat. He curls into himself as Liana stands above him, humming as she examines her knife.

“Ca– Cal—“

“—won’t be around much longer. I’d say your goodbyes now if I were you, pet,” Liana says, not looking up as she flicks a speck of blood off her blade.

Ezra rushes over, crouching by the older faerie as blood continues to seep out.

“Cal, come on, Cal please—“

“Ez– Ez– Ezra,” he chokes out, eyes fluttering. “Go.”

“What?”

“_Go,_” Cal rasps. “I– I order y– you to...to go….”

“I’m not—“

Cal grabs his shirt collar, jerking him down. Ezra gasps as his hand brushes the blood pooling on the floor.

“Go,” he says, blood coming with the word. It spatters on Ezra's cheek, but he barely notices.

“I—“

Cal shoves him away by the jaw and Ezra sits back on his heels, wincing at the pain. He forces himself to rise, swallowing hard despite the bile rising in his throat as Cal shudders, blood sputtering out.

“Watch, boy,” Liana says.

_ “I– I order y– you to...to go….” _

Ezra turns back to Trilla. The woman is half leaning against the wall, watching Cal die with a blank expression and crossed arms. When she notices Ezra’s glance, she blinks.

He takes it as a sign and bolts.

“Ezra, get back here!”

_ It’s not a direct order it’s not a direct order it’s not a direct order— _

He stumbles through the halls, legs and arms beginning to ache anew around the second turn.

“_Ezra!_”

He keeps running, eventually slowing to a lurching half-jog, trying to keep his brain clear enough to find the stables despite Liana’s Trace shoving through his mind, reminding him that she is the one who hurt him, she is the one who’s kept him here, she is the one who killed Cal.

_ No, you did that last one _yourself.

He closes his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath, and continues to stumble through the corridors.

He staggers through a doorway he hardly remembers, blinking in pleasant surprise as he sees the stable yard.

He staggers out, slamming the door shut behind him and wishing there was a way to bar it.

_ No time to find something to block it. Just _keep moving.

He turns, stumbling to the stable block, and unlocking the first half door he comes to. A dark stallion snorts from within, pawing and tossing his head as Ezra jiggles the lock.

_ Come on, come on…. _

He hears the clanking of armor from within the keep walls and half-turns, swallowing hard. They don’t seem to have realized he’s in the stable yard yet.

That will change soon, he knows.

The lock shoots free and swings the door with it, the stallion neighing loudly and shoving the door forward even further—and Ezra along with it. He stumbles back, wincing as the edge of the door catches him in the side, and then approaches the stallion.

The destrier snorts, ears pricked, and turns to look at him as he holds out a hand.

“This way, c’mon. I don’t have any food for you, I wish I did, but I’ll– I’ll get you something later, yeah? Just– just c’mon, we need to go.”

The horse snorts, shaking its head, and Ezra begins to back toward the fence the grooms use to tie the horses.

Slowly, the stallion follows.

He climbs atop it and coaxes the horse closer, hesitating only a moment before grabbing a fistful of mane and swinging his leg over. The stallion whinnies, pawing at the ground and moving almost immediately as Ezra lurches forward. He winces at the pain as the horse moves up into a trot, seeming to know where to go.

He can feel Liana’s Trace getting closer.

“Hey, buddy, we need to go,” he whispers, patting the horse’s neck. The stallion only snorts, continuing to trot toward….

_ Kriff this. _

Ezra grabs the mane again, squeezing his leg against the horse’s side in an effort to turn him away from the mares’ stable block. “Come on, don’t go after them _ now, _ I promise I’ll set you loose and you can find whatever mare you want then! Just any time but _ right now!_”

“He went that way!”

The distant shout sets his hair on edge and, it seems, the stallion too. He neighs again, turning sharply away from the mares and starting to canter toward the gates to the stable yard.

“That’s it, that’s it, good boy,” Ezra murmurs, patting the horse’s neck again and wincing as the stallion settles into the rocking gait.

“Stop! Thief!”

A groom runs out into the yard, directly in the path of the stallion, and Ezra wants to scream.

“Go, go, go!” he yells, digging his bare heels into the stallion’s sides. The horse snorts, tossing his head before speeding up to a full-out run and going around the groom, still headed straight for the gates.

They’re still closed.

_ Kriff kriff kriff karking kriff what in the seven realms— _

Someone outside the gates suddenly gallops their horse up, hesitating momentarily before pulling one of the gates wide open. “Come on!”

Ezra doesn’t bother asking why, only urges the stallion on. The destrier, however, needs no more encouragement.

The other rider turns their horse, urging the bay up into a gallop. Ezra’s horse snorts and follows, and the pair winds their way through the streets of the capital at breakneck speed.

“There!”

Ezra doesn’t turn to confirm his suspicions that it’s a group of soldiers following them; who else would be running their horses in full armor in a group of similarly armored horsemen? He only leans forward over the dark horse’s neck, settling into the rhythm of his hoofbeats on the cobblestone.

The other rider doesn’t stop until they’re long out of Coruscant and into the woods surrounding the city. They only slow when both Ezra and his stallion’s sides are heaving harsh, heavy breaths.

The rider slows to a walk for several minutes before stopping, turning to face Ezra. They pull their hood off and he blinks, realizing she’s the Mandalorian from the group that rescued him back at Thrawn’s.

“You’re– you’re the girl from– from—“

“Yeah, and you’re the faerie. Welcome back, kid. We have to keep moving.”

“I...how come...why….”

“I’ll answer questions later. If we don’t make the rendezvous in time, they’ll leave without us. You can walk him, but keep moving.” He nods, obeying the girl.

_ But why would she come all the way here? _


	15. The Matter of Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Torture, Blood, Victim Self-blaming, Referenced Character Death

“Sabine.”

“Yeah?” she asks, looking over her shoulder. The faerie kid is barely holding on, but she forces her expression to remain neutral. _ He’ll be fine as long as you make it to the camp before they leave. _

“How much longer?”

She glances back at the path ahead of them before answering. “Another hour or so, I think. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Okay.”

He falls quiet again and she allows her mind to drift as they ride in silence. She had been expecting to only do recon today, after they’d discovered he was no longer at the same estate they originally rescued him from, and to get the boy out with Kanan another day.

Instead, she had arrived only to see soldiers mobilizing and searching for...someone.

The kid, as it turned out.

She risks another glance back at the boy. Blood is still streaked across his jaw, a few droplets splattered on his cheek as well. His hands, too, are bloodied, and she silently wonders who he killed.

His eyes are fluttering half-closed with every step, too, expression contorted in pain. As she looks closer, he almost seems to be _ crying _ as well.

But there isn’t any iron burns she can see, beyond the scars on his jaw from when they’d rescued him the first time. Her stomach turns itself inside out as she tries to think of how else he might have been tortured.

Still, he was clearly okay enough to steal a horse. And a stallion, too, at that. He should be fine to make it to the camp.

She hopes.

* * *

“She should be back by now.” Kanan continues to pace beside Ghost, ignoring the mare’s snort of concern as he passes her head.

“Kanan, she’s probably fine. Most likely she’s just taking the long way back to avoid any patrols.”

He shakes his head in frustration, finally sitting on the rock beside his mare. “I don’t think so. Even taking the long way, she should be back by now….”

Hera rises from where she’s been kneeling by Storm for the better part of an hour, cleaning the gelding’s leg injury. She approaches where Kanan sits on a flat rock, sitting next to him.

“Hey. She’ll be okay. I know she will.”

“You can lie,” he mumbles. She wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to her.

“That doesn’t mean I want to.”

He closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar scents of Hera and his horse. This is what he’s fighting for, he reminds himself. He’s fighting for them, and so that the other fae can live a life better than the one he did before he met Hera.

Zeb’s out searching for a spot closer to the river to move their camp to, he knows. Sabine is...she’s going to be okay. She’ll be okay.

He has to believe that.

Hera starts toying with his hair after several long minutes, pulling back slightly only to rest her head on his shoulder. He closes his eyes as she begins to braid a few locks of his hair together.

“Stop cutting it,” she murmurs. “It looks better long.”

“If that’s what you like,” he replies, allowing her touch and Ghost’s quiet snorting to ground him.

She’s halfway through a short, thin braid when he feels Ghost’s attention shift to something that isn’t him, Hera, or the grass. Hera’s attention shifts away from his hair, too, and he opens his eyes to see Ghost, Storm, and Phantom all staring off into the woods.

Hera withdraws from his hair and he rises, not taking his eyes off the treeline as he stoops to grab his longsword from where it lies on the rock.

“Kanan—“

“Be ready,” he says.

She rises next to him, pulling her own blade from its small sheath on her belt.

They stand, tensed, for several long seconds before the first shouts reach them.

“...Kanan! Hera! I found him!”

Kanan and Hera exchange a glance before running to the treeline. Sabine and Breeze break through the brush then, the girl pointing wildly behind her.

“The faerie kid! He was trying to run at the same time I was doing recon so I just brought him with me and here he is but Hera he’s bleeding really bad and—“

“Slow down,” Kanan interrupts. Breathing heavily, Sabine nods, walking Breeze over to Ghost and slipping off. She unbridles the mare and follows Kanan’s lead as he waits for the fae kid.

The boy and his horse break through the trees only seconds after Sabine stops next to the older faerie, the boy’s horse snorting loudly.

“Whoa, eas– easy,” Kanan hears the kid mutter. He pats the horse on its neck before dismounting shakily, stumbling backward and wincing.

_ What else did they put him through? _

“Kid, c'mere.” The boy—Ezra, Kanan reminds himself firmly—staggers toward him, breathing hard, and Kanan only now registers the blood covering half the kid’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Ye– yeah,” he nods. “I’m...yeah.”

“The blood, is it—“

“Not mine.”

“Ah.” Kanan nods slowly.

The boy wavers, seeming to space out for a moment before blinking.

“We need to go,” Sabine says breathlessly.

Kanan nods absently, eyes still trained on the boy. Something seems..._off _ about him.

“Kid?” he asks gently. The boy jumps, blinking again and looking up at him. “Do you need to sit down?”

“I...yeah, that...that’d be...that’d be nice….” He trails off as Kanan leads him to the rock he and Hera sat on only minutes before.

Ezra nearly collapses onto it, and that’s when the warning bells go off in Kanan’s mind.

“Kid, if you’re not okay, it’s better I find out _ now _rather than later. Are you okay physically?”

“Yeah.”

“What about...otherwise?”

There’s a long silence before the boy drops his gaze to the leaves littering the ground. He murmurs something Kanan doesn’t catch.

“What was that?”

Ezra raises his gaze again, and Kanan blinks in shock at the tears gleaming in his eyes.

“I killed him,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting this super early in the morning so this won’t be long but a huge shoutout goes to Dessa for helping me plot this and motivating me to write something in a similar universe to the forever unfinished Start Making Fires and also to the Phoenix Nest Discord for their constant support too. More will be coming soon.


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